Changing the Scales
by Czarna Pantera
Summary: Captain Rip Hunter decides to recruit one more person to his team. Surprisingly enough, someone who probably doesn't want to have anything to do with time ships, traveling back and forth in time, fighting against tyrants who want to destroy the universe and the rest of that weird shit. Said person is Quentin Lance.
1. Prologue

_Sooo... long time ago_ _ **Merryloon**_ _threw me that idea for a fic. It won't be a long AU probably, but nevertheless having down-to-earth man like Quentin interact with Rip Hunter and the colorful team of Legends was just too tempting to not write it. Also, I miss Rip Hunter in season 2 of Legends, so I dusted off the beginning of the story I've started a while back._

 _Many thanks to_ _ **Perosha**_ _for beta. :)_

* * *

 **Changing the Scales**

 **Prologue**

"Are you sure, Gideon?" asked Rip Hunter, studying the data the AI was showing him on the main screen. He was standing on _Waverider's_ bridge, pondering over the unexpected piece of information the computer showed him as soon as he returned to the deck.

He had just come back from the meeting with people he intended to recruit to his team. All he could do now was just wait for their decision. He hoped that he'd pulled the right strings. He didn't like that he had to lie to those people, but he had no other choice. He desperately needed whatever aid he could gather—he just couldn't achieve what he intended to do alone. For some of them, concern about the future of the world mattered to them enough to make them ponder his offer. Others, like Ray Palmer, were tempted by the promise of being someone exceptional, or were lured by the perspective of adventure (Rip had noticed a glint of fascination in Professor Stein's eyes when he heard about time travel and breaking the boundaries of physics he knew). Some of them, deep down, wanted to gain some new purpose in their lives, like Sara Lance, who was recently resurrected and still a bit lost after such a sudden return. Others might find using the opportunity for their own advantage the most appealing (he had very little doubt that it was the first thing that crossed the minds of individuals like Leonard Snart and Mick Rory)—and that was a risk Rip was ready to take.

And then suddenly Gideon had informed him about this new calculation...Another possibility that had just appeared and he should reconsider. But it sounded even more absurd than his whole plan—which was not the most logical and well-thought out one, to put it mildly.

"I'm 96% sure, Captain," said Gideon with its gentle voice.

No matter what the AI was saying, it sounded as if everything was simple and clear, depending on probability. Having doubts or second thoughts didn't exist for it; its judgment was never clouded by emotions or feelings which were normal for human beings. Ever since Rip decided to rebel, relinquish his position as a Time Master, and commandeer the time ship, he was wondering if he'd made a good decision. He knew that eventually he would have to pay a price for it, as the Council of Time Masters would do everything in their power to bring in the rogue and punish him severely. He'd practically signed his own death sentence. Or something even worse—being wiped out of existence altogether. But if beforehand he managed to change something...to stop that monster, who brought the demise of the world, killing billions of innocent people...as well as his wife and son...it would be worth it.

"My prognosis shows that adding this one recruit to the list might change the scale significantly." Gideon's voice cut into Rip's train of thoughts. "The whole mission's success may depend on that one factor."

Rip scoffed, skimming through the available data about the possible addition to his team. In light of what he was about to do, this candidate looked like a joke. One great mistake. Well, actually his mission was a very risky venture, but this...He frowned, studying the file. Maybe he was meta-human, who was unaware of his powers? But nothing indicated it.

"But he is not a hero of any kind. He is an ordinary man! I can't see anything special about him."

"If I may remind you, Captain, you don't look for exceptional people," Gideon said politely.

Rip felt a stab of guilt when AI made that particular mention. Indeed, he was looking for dispensable ones, whose lives had a minimum effect on a recorded timeline.

"No, I don't," he admitted. "But I look for people with certain _potential_. Skills. What can he offer us?"

"My prognosis doesn't show it, Captain. Just the possible final effect on the timeline."

"Great." Rip rubbed his forehead. "Just great."

It seemed that tonight he needed to meet with one more person.


	2. An Ordinary Guy

_Many thanks to_ _ **Perosha**_ _for beta._

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

 **An Ordinary Guy**

Meanwhile the "possible new addition to the team" had just returned to his flat. Surprisingly enough, it was someone who probably didn't want to have anything to do with time ships, traveling back and forth in time, fighting against tyrants who wanted to destroy the universe, and all the weird shit that tended to happen ever since a certain hooded man wielding a bow and arrows appeared on the horizon.

The person in question, Quentin Lance, came inside to his small apartment and closed the door. His flat was steeped in darkness and completely lifeless. As always. After all, nobody was waiting for him. Once a while Queen had an annoying tendency to show up uninvited (and startle him, nearly giving him _another_ heart attack), but this time there was no Queen (what a relief!).

So, the flat was just empty. Or appeared to be, as it turned out shortly after.

Quentin, for the time being blissfully oblivious to what fate had in store for him, and how crazy his life was about to get (meaning crazier that it already was), put the car keys and the holster with his gun on a shoe cupboard standing next to the door. It was not exactly in accordance with the rules to carry the gun on him all the time, but in this damn city nothing worked according to rules anymore. Cops got shot at for a living even before, and now when Darkh's Ghosts were swarming the city, acting more and more brashly, everyone in his line of work was in extra danger. Yes, he should be _secure_ , because he pretended he was Darhk's man, but how long he would need him? It was quite possible that one day Quentin would find himself in Starling Bay with his throat slit and a weight attached to his dead body. And that would be probably one of better options out of all the bad things which could happen to him right now.

He sighed deeply. It had been a long, exhausting day, and the double life he had been leading last few months was putting a strain on him. He was not worried about himself. But if something happened to him, his daughters would be crushed. It made him wonder how Queen was able to live like that. How he could put on that green hood every night, do whatever he did as the vigilante, and the next day be back to his ordinary life? Sometimes Quentin felt that the man lived in some kind of denial, deceiving himself that he could have a normal life outside being Green Arrow. It was extremely hard to balance it when one was a cop—Lance's marriage hadn't survived that trial, although it had started to fall apart due to personal problems, not because of his work. How hard could it get, when a vigilante's activities demanded to put one's life on the line every day?

He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he felt sorry for Queen, because he was sure that sooner or later he will learn that lesson the hard way. That he couldn't both be a vigilante and have that happy life of his with Felicity. Damn...That poor girl was now lying in the hospital and was about to undergo another operation. How ironic was it that what put her truly in harm's way was not her aiding the Green Arrow, but her just being close to Queen? It was as if fate itself wanted to screw his life over and over again.

The thought of Felicity made his mind veer toward Donna. After they had met in that bar a couple of weeks ago, they exchanged their mobile numbers and had been seeing each other quite frequently. Donna had a lot of free time, and since she couldn't find a balance between being too overprotective and not interfering too much in her daughter's life, she preferred to stay out of her hair. So Quentin met with her for coffee, then they had lunch together, and eventually a dinner. She even managed to drag him to the cinema to watch some idiotic romantic comedy. And apparently for Donna Smoak it was as good as if he had proposed to her. Donna was...a nice woman. She talked a lot and was easy to like, just like her daughter (it took some time before he discovered that Felicity was said daughter; and it was kind of a shock, because seriously, Starling was not that small of a city after all—now call it a coincidence...). But she wanted to progress with that relationship way too fast for Quentin's taste. After his marriage with Dinah fell apart, he turned into a loner, and focused mostly on his work, since his personal life ceased to exist. It was nice to go out once in a while for a change, and not only to AA meetings or to dinner with Laurel, but Lance was starting to feel doubts whether their relationship will survive for long. Opposites attracted, but not that much...

They hadn't seen each other recently, though. Right now Donna was preoccupied with her daughter's health, and it was perfectly understandable. Lance knew all too well how it was to be worried sick for a child. He had an unhealthy dose of bad experiences in that area. Every time he was struck by the terrifying thought that something bad might happen to Sara _(again)_ or Laurel _(since right now she was a vigilante as well)_ he felt as if a shard of ice had stabbed him in the heart. He wouldn't survive another loss. He tried to latch on to the hope that his daughters were more than capable of taking care of themselves, but it didn't made him feel much better. He wished he could shield them from any danger the world might hold for them, but he knew he was not able to. What Quentin Lance was truly worthy? He was not a key element of the bigger picture consisting of the whole universe, alternative realities and other Earths (he learned about those only recently and honestly it freaked him out a bit). He was just an ordinary guy. An everyman. Not some costumed hero like Oliver or his fast-running pal, or his daughters. And the rest of Queen's family, acquaintances and friends.

He sighed. He missed his ordinary, boring life sometimes. But anyway, he'd made it to the evening today, and nothing crazy had happened. That was a good sign. Nothing would surprise him, since he didn't plan to go out anywhere. He already ate dinner out. He liked to cook, but after work he was usually too tired to prepare something more engaging than scrambled eggs or pancakes. In the good old days, when he still had a family and his life was perfectly orderly and normal (and _boring_ compared to what was happening right now), he used to cook very often, come to think of that much more often than Dinah. But now he saw little point in it since he was living alone. After his family fell apart, he lost interest in it, except for times when Laurel came to visit him (he preferred that then making it other way around—his daughter had many talents, but didn't take after him any of the skills needed in kitchen). On those rare occasions, he made some effort to prepare something which was once his specialty—a lasagna, a spicy chili, or beef stew, and bake that carrot cake Laurel liked so much. It brought back good memories, even if now there was only two people sitting by the table, not four.

Despite not being hungry he still went towards the kitchen. It was rather cold outside and he decided that brewing some tea wouldn't be a bad idea. However, he never get there, as suddenly he realized one very disturbing thing.

He was not alone in his flat.

He caught in the corner of his eye a dark silhouette of a man wearing long overcoat. And this time he was sure that the person lingering in the shadows wasn't Oliver...


End file.
